The Soul Reason
by ClutchPaper
Summary: Souls are tricky things. Trapped with one (human) body, with two now equal souls, Castiel and Jimmy Novak are just trying to figure out how to live. Add in a monster- angel in a little girl, the impact of the trials on Sam , Cas' favorite Winchester, a former king of Hell, and an estranged family... and things become a bit complicated. SEASON 9 AU. Jimmy & Castiel Centric
1. Chapter 1

**THEN:** Castiel and Jimmy Novak found themselves having to survive as equals in a human body. Jimmy's new freedom inspired him to attempt to reach out to his family. Castiel could not allow him to do that, not when all the Angels of heaven are hunting this body. Committing himself to a Psychiatric Hospital, Castiel and Jimmy found an uneasy alliance. When Castiel agreed with Jimmy to check in on Claire and Amelia, they discovered that Claire is hosting an angel. Hiding away only worked for so long. They agreed that they must evict this possibly dangerous angel from it's young host. When the family that helped them when they left the Hospital are attacked and killed because of who Castiel is, he finally reconnected with the Winchesters... only to find a third person in the back of the Impala.

(Summary pulled from Part 1 of this story, "Changing of the Guard" located in my stories)

_AUTHOR NOTE: This can be read independently of 'Changing of the Guard'. So, if you are a new reader, check the summary above, and have fun. If you've followed the other story, welcome back!_

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**NOW:**

The backseat was awkward.

Sam and Dean were silent, and Castiel sat as far from the other occupant as possible. They had left the flames of the house a few hours ago, and Castiel had not been able to bring himself to say anything on the matter, although he had the feeling he should. Silence had pervaded the vehicle, and finally, he was ready to think about something else preying on his attentions. He leaned forward towards Dean's ear. "You are sure he is not…'playing you'?"

"Naughty as that sounds, I'm hurt you're too good for me, Sparkles. Former Demon, former Angel, we have things in common, you and I. Neither quite human yet though, can't miss the little glow you've got going on there." The dethroned king of hell commented, motioning to the former angel's eyes and giving a smile that made Castiel's stomach turn a little.

Sam spoke up in response, ever the mediator. "I know it seems crazy, but he's mostly human now… and not even the guy that sold his soul in the first place—"

"That's true. Been doing a bit of readjusting to the whole humanity thing—doing the whole self-discovery 'Part of Your World' bit. Turns out since I've got a bit of Moose in my blood… and apparently that does things to a bloke. " Crowley cut Sam off, and spoke quickly, as if to keep the conversation about his current situation as short as possible.

"-We've been working with Crowley for over five months… he's had plenty of chances to kill, betray… basically all the things that old Crowley loved. Not saying we haven't had our disagreements, but he's got more on demons than we could ever know. He's a resource."

Crowley kicked his shoes off, and seemed to be very comfortable in the Impala. More comfortable than Castiel, which actually made him feel jealous. "Oh, Moosey, I was hoping for a slightly more clichéd word, like—friend, let's say?"

_This is not what I had anticipated. _Castiel turned and looked out the darkening window with a slightly sullen expression. His eyes glowed blue looking back at him, and he tried for the two hundred and seventh time to pull the energy back, closing his eyes and trying to corral the power, like when he was an angel. But he wasn't strong enough, and failed._ Again. _The pressure in his chest had been building over the hours, and it was now reaching a level that was painful. He had to release Jimmy's soul… _Again._

"Alright, enough ladies. Let's focus on getting everyone on the up-and-up with this job." Dean demanded, flicking on the headlights of the Impala as the night fell around the car. "We've got a major haunting at a YMCA in-"

"We need to go to Vermont."

Dean looked in the rear-view mirror, "No, we've got a job in Rhode Island… So stuff your cheese craving, and—"

"What's in Vermont?" Sam asked, cutting his brother off, and again, mediating the conversation. _I like that about him. He's moody… and his voice is grating at times, but that is a talent I should attempt to learn._

Castiel shot a look at Crowley, who had produced a book from his pocket and seemed to be tuning out the conversation. The former demon rose his eyebrows and glanced over the edge of the pages. "I'm not going to plug my ears and sing or anything, you have something to share with all the class, share it. Your xenophobia only made a glimmer of sense when we weren't the Same. Bloody. Species."

"Being human does not change personality. And I have seen enough of yours to know not to trust—"

"Oh, tut-tut, you'll hurt my feelings, and you know what we'll have to do to make up—"

"Would the both of you shut up? You're like freakin' Spock and McCoy, and I'm not gonna listen to you bond through insults." Dean sped the car up, and passed a truck that Castiel had noticed was driving particularly slowly.

The air was filled with nothing but the roar of the Impala's engine, and the thrum of the tires on the road.

Sam turned to face Castiel and Crowley as best he could. "You two can go at this fight later. Right now, we need to know why we would head to Vermont instead of Rhode Island."

Castiel looked up at Sam, and chose not to acknowledge the man next to him. "There is a particular Angel that needs to be evicted from his host."

Furrowing his brow, Sam held Castiel's gaze waiting for explanation. _That man conveys most of his emotions in the upper portion of his face. I wonder if it is an evolutionary trait and eventually all humans will do that… But what would the purpose be?_

"We've got some angel blades in the back, we've been ganking them as fast as we can. And pickpocketing the corpses-" Dean removed a hand from the wheel and motioned over his shoulder. "Hope you don't mind."

Castiel's eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. "Of course I mind. You're slaughtering my brothers and sisters."

Putting his hand back on the wheel, Dean shrugged. "We gotta take'em out. So far there ain't been many quiet, peaceful, let's get along, flowers-and-sunshine sort of angels we've encountered."

"Any, actually." Contributing to the conversation with a slightly guilty tone, Sam turned back around to face the road.

"I understand." Castiel felt the surge of raw power pulse in his chest, and he felt a 'pop' as some of the flesh along his collar bone snapped apart. He put a hand to his neck, staunching the blood with the fabric of his shirt. "I think we need to pull over."

Sam twisted around to look at him again, and his surprise was obvious, "Cas, are you gonna throw up?"

"We're on the highway." Dean said firmly.

_I don't understand… why that would change the need to vomit. _"If we do not pull over… soon… I will have to suggest you cover your eyes and ears. Which I do not think is safe to do while driving." Castiel closed his eyes tightly, and rocked forward a little, trying to ease the tension in his chest.

"Hate to say this fellows, but I think we'd better do what he says." Crowley's voice sounded a little tense.

_He's human now, he'll burn like anyone else…_

"Don't you dare do anything in my Baby, Cas!" Dean sounded seriously concerned. Castiel felt the car speed up even more, and then turn suddenly. A ramp. "Looks like there's an abandoned Gas Station at the turn up here. Hold on." The Impala lurched off the smooth road and onto bumpy terrain.

Castiel opened his eyes, and pulled the latch, shoving open the door. The car was still moving, and he felt a hand grab his shirt.

"Don't be a bloody idiot! Wait 'til the ride comes to a complete stop!" Crowley shouted, holding Cas back from throwing himself onto the ground rushing past.

The Impala skidded to a stop, and Crowley's hand released Cas's shirt.

Tossing himself out of the car, and into the darkness, Castiel struggled to his feet. The heat was blistering his skin, he felt the flesh on one of his knuckles peel open, and the blood was cauterized before it even had a chance to spill. Strong hands pulled him to his feet, and he lifted his head to see Sam on one side, and Dean on the other. "Go! I'm not sure what will happen this time… It won't be pleasant…"

Dean's concern was audible, and Castiel had to smirk just a little. _I've missed this man. _"Cas, what the hell are you doin'?"

"I think we'd better do what he says."

Castiel felt them move away, and he was almost consumed with the energy pent up inside him.

He held it back, listening to the car doors slam shut, and then it surged out, he wasn't sure if he had given the Impala enough time to get away. His eyes wide, he threw his arms back and released as much as he could. Gasping, weak, he looked up at the glowing mass spread as far as he could see, shining gold and blue.

He steeled himself for what he knew was next. The light coalesced, pulling in tight, and then dove down into the body again. Castiel screamed as it pounded back in, invading his heart, limbs, mind, cells. _Jimmy? _He fell over onto the dirt and blacked out.

He ached all over, he felt sharp rocks in his back, and blood trickling down his face. Clumsily, he reached up to stop the flow, and just hit his nose, and he felt the bleeding increase.

_Claire. _The voice was different sounding, less coherent than when Jimmy had been sharing the mind with him. It was garbled and fuzzy, as if he had been awoken in the middle of the night.

_Jimmy. I am on my way to them. It is… a long drive. _Castiel could hear the screech of the Impala's tires, and then the sound of feet on the loose stone.

_Please. _Jimmy's voice sounded childlike and pleading. His presence vanished into the heat again, just as Castiel managed to pry his eyes open. Gasping, Castiel sat up. He scrambled to his knees, fists planted in the rocks, and shuddered violently. He could feel the energy still bubbling out, spilling from his spine, then through his ribs, he dug his fingers into the stones beneath them and snarled as he attempted to force the soul free. _I will free Claire of Saul, please, go! _It clung on, and burned as it began to pull in tighter, Castiel felt like his skin was going to rupture. _You're going to kill us! Concentrate, and control yourself!_


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Just so we have it clear, this is an AU of Season 9. It was plotted BEFORE Season 9 started up, so any resemblance someone finds to the current running is coincidence. Updates are coming a bit slower because school is getting more intense in these last few weeks. But I will be updating as regularly as possible. Thanks!

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_This was not his normal choice of meal, however, the strange looking young man who is serving us said there were no buns or cheese…so I suppose he must have settled for that. It cannot be worse than anyone else's dinner. _Castiel watched as Dean shoved another mouthful of pasta between his teeth, and chewed. A large bruise over his eye showed where he had hit the steering wheel when Castiel had released Jimmy's soul. The power had sent the Impala into a complete 360, and the occupants had gotten knocked around a little. Castiel gave a minute smile, and apologized again. "I am glad your injuries were not serious."

"Yes, because the walking bomb doesn't need to tell people about his lethal blast radius." Crowley responded, and picked at the bland diner food. Castiel wasn't sure why the man had ordered pancakes, but they didn't seem to be appealing to either of them.

Castiel shook his head, nudging up the sunglasses he was wearing to hide his eyes, and he chewed on the pulled pork sandwich he had ordered. It was poor at best. The meat was chewy, and the sauce was too maple-y. _I have developed an opinion of foods. I never would have imagined that I could do so… beyond burgers. And tacos. And distaste for grape jelly. And Jimmy's carry-over gag response to black olives._

"Just me, or this stuff taste like they forgot what seasoning is? How do you screw up spaghetti? Huh? Even I couldn't screw up spaghetti. Did they just open a can and slop it on, warm through some frozen meatballs? I mean, come on!" Dean complained, finally saying what they all had seemed to be thinking about their own dishes.

A tiny man with a pale blue mohawk came over, and asked as he yawned, "Everything okay here?"

Castiel shook his head and pointed at his plate. "The food… sucks." He nodded gravely, and with his palm down, motioned over the other men's plates. "All of it. A lot."

The waiter blinked at him, as if trying to comprehend what had been said.

"You can't just—you can't say that!" Sam chastised, giving a nervous and apologetic smile to the fellow that seemed to be a little slow on the uptake.

"Someone bloody well should." Flicking his fork back and forth through his fingers, Crowley wrinkled his nose a little, and stared at the waiter. "This shouldn't be news to you. You have eaten the food you serve paying customers, haven't you, lad?"

The man wiped his glasses off on his greasy apron and put the newly smeared lenses back on his face. They slid down his long oily nose. "I-I-I..." He appeared almost ready to bolt. "Would you like some dessert on the house?"

Dean gave a cold smile, and shook his head as he pushed his food aside. "Know what? We're gonna have to pass on that."

A full minute of silence passed, before the Waiter hustled away in an awkward run. The four men turned back to their meals, and Castiel took another un-anticipatory bite of his food.

"So...can you hear Jimmy now?" With curious eyes, Sam seemed to be ignoring the state of his wilted Caesar salad, and instead focusing in on Castiel's story. _He's become more… cerebral. Much of his muscle has atrophied, I can see it in his arms and neck. Was he so affected by the trails… or by negligence of the body?_

Shaking his head, Castiel crammed the food into his cheek so he could speak. "No." His chest was beginning to feel warm again, and he wondered if the soul was still not sitting right in there. _It has only been a few hours-_

"But you two were taking shifts?" Sam inquired, interrupting Castiel's thoughts. The younger Winchester took a drink of his water, and made a face as he swallowed. "Ugh. This is super sulfer-y."

Dean straightened up in his seat, and looked around the Diner. After a few moments, Castiel noticed he slid back into his seat a little. "Just crappy water. Doesn't look like there're any signs of ghost… just one more thing to leave a bad taste in your mouth."

Taking a long drink from his cup of coffee, the former demon wrinkled his eyes and nose slightly. "Putting one star on TripAdvisor when we get settled into our one-star."

Castiel turned slowly to look at Crowley. "I don't understand most of what you said."

"A man has to have non-torturing hobbies when he's tip-toe-ing the straight and saintly." Suddenly deciding that his pancakes were worth eating, Crowley glared at Castiel and took a big bite. "I keep these twitchy digits busy with regularly reviewing the rat-infested holes we eat in, and warning people of the moldy carpets we spend our nights on."

Dean looked between the two of them, and Castiel caught his eye. "Yes?"

"Nothin'. I just honestly expected you to out-and-out gank one another. But you're all Benedick and Beatrice." Raising his eyebrows, shaking his head, and looking back down at his plate, Dean rubbed at his forehead as Castiel frowned. _I don't know who those people are._ "Anyways, back to what Sammy was saying, your plan is to get this other soul—"

"Jimmy." Castiel reminded softly around a wad of chewed meat.

"Right. Jimmy. You're gonna try to get him to…?"

Putting his sandwich down, Castiel wiped his mouth on one of the coarse paper napkins. "He's just energy, without restraint. I believe he is just aware enough to recognize his family is in danger, and so he refuses to separate fully. If—and this is a guess—if we take him to his family, I exorcise the Angel from his daughter, I believe that he will see they are safe, and feel free to-" _Is there a proper word for it? _"—pass on. Or, he might begin to heal and to reemerge as a personality." Attempting to ignore the man listening next to him, Castiel shifted further away from Crowley. "…Or I could explode and die at any point, taking a mile-wide radius with me as both souls are released."

More silence.

"Sweet. Sounds good." Dean slapped his palms against the table and then reached for his wallet. "Let's get back on the road." He tossed twenty dollars and ten cents on the table, which was not the total bill, and stood up, signaling it was time for everyone to be finished eating.

Castiel crammed some of the soggy fries into his mouth, in the desperate attempt to fill his stomach, and waited for Crowley to move so he could sidle out of the booth. Sam and Dean walked past, and Castiel picked up the jacket that Dean had given for him to wear off the cracked red seat he had been sitting on. Castiel realized it was taking Crowley too long. Castiel looked up, and the man was just standing there. Observing. "Move."

Crowley's eyes narrowed, and he closed much of the gap between their faces, their noses almost touched as he breathed out, "You listen to me, Feathers. I've been running around being the hero for half a year. So, you can take your ridiculously outdated bigotry and-"

Eyes slits, Castiel tilted his head to the right, and his hands became fists at his side. Everything Crowley was saying floated past him for a moment, as he tried to refrain from punching the man's nose.

"-shed blood. I've skewered some monsters, sent my own kind back to hell, even killed myself an angel or ten. I think you should trust your precious Winchesters, I'm not the baddie in the room, mate." Crowley stepped back, and left enough room for Castiel to walk past. He motioned with his hand for him to go first. Crowley adjusted his suit to sit on his shoulders in a more flattering way. He looked Castiel up and down. "You decide to make a wardrobe change, and you get the grey sweat suit. No sense of class, you angels." He slapped Castiel on the shoulder, which brought the angel to a halt with the little twinge of pain from the wound he had received that morning. Crowley walked in front of him, and continued out the door, tossing over his shoulder, "The backseat isn't going to stay warm all by itself!"


	3. Chapter 3

Author Note: Thanks for the reviews, they encourage me to keep writing. Lets me know people are reading! Seems people are pretty open to Crowley-humanized, and he's been fun to write. Enjoy another chapter!

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_He must have lost at least fifty pounds. Most of that muscle. _As soon as the chance came, Castiel was going to inquire with Dean about his brother's health. For his height, this weight was not healthy… and certainly not for someone with the lifestyle that the Winchesters lived.

Crowley was pretending to be passed out on the couch, arms folded over his chest, wearing some black flannel pants and a bright red wife beater shirt. He snored gently and pulled his legs off where they were flung over the arm of the couch, they curled up closer to him, and he continued 'sleeping'._ He appears to be so calm in the Winchester's presence. Maddeningly at ease._

Seated next to the little wooden desk at one end of the room, Castiel listened to Dean swear wildly in the bathroom, and the sudden 'clank!' of a razor in the sink. _It made more sense a few thousand years ago, men embraced their facial hair… it was less sanitary, but it was simple. It was less painful. _Scratching at the scruff on his face that he was currently sporting, Castiel looked down at the thin brown carpet, and waited for his turn to clean up. _Perhaps, I will cease shaving. _

Castiel had refused to share a room with Crowley, and after what Dean had called, "A terrible twos tantrum" in the lobby, they had ended up with one large room… and a sleeper sofa and couch. _I only explained vehemently that I would not reside with Crowley, as he would kill me in my sleep. I don't understand why they would not see that. _

Rubbing at the warm grey fabric on his knee, Castiel heard Sam turn another page, and looked back at him. The man was sitting on one of the beds, a thick book that Castiel had not seen before in his hands. Dean finally trailed off his swearing, and Sam looked up. "Hey, Cas, you said that you don't know much about Saul—this angel in Jimmy's daughter. If he won out the battle for her as a vessel, does that mean he's the strongest, or just hopped in first?"

"I have been trying to recall the name to a face…if I remember correctly, he had four of them. He was another class of Angel. One that was… a little less friendly than the rest of us." Castiel gave a light shrug. "You would have seen them as monsters. The Cherubim were—"

"Hold on, Cherubs? Like that weird smiley naked guy?" Dean had exited the bathroom, and had the corner of his towel to his chin, where there was a shallow gash. "Friendly wasn't a problem for him. I still get the jeebes when I see them little fat wing-y babies. So wrong."

"No. Cherubim. Four faces. Multiple wings." Castiel rose from his chair and walked towards the bathroom. "Terrifying, really. None of us really interacted with them. They were not like us. They had no interest in Father's Earth. They just… lingered in heaven, observing us. The angels. None knew what their rank was… above or below the Archangels, or what they wanted. None dared ask. And they rarely spoke to us. " He paused at the doorway, and reached up to itch the stubble on his face again. "If that is Saul, he would have intimidated all the other angels, so I can assume that he didn't make it into a vessel by chance."

"Great. Monster angels." Dean pulled the towel away and looked at the red stain. "Wouldn't you say that's gonna be fun, Sammy? Monster angel? Right?"

Sam shook his head and looked down at his book again. "I'm thinking that maybe… Crowley and I should continue with the first job. The haunting. We'll drop you off with Jimmy's family, and pick you up when we've finished. Garth said this was important, and we're headed that way…sort of."

Leaning back onto the bed to look at his brother better, Castiel saw the distaste for this plan all over Dean's face. "Yeah, you want me to let you take off with my baby, and ditch me with—sorry Cas— night of 'the walking explosive man and the thing that freaks out celestial beings the size of the Chrysler building'? No thanks, I think I'll like all the help I can get."

Putting the book down next to him, Sam sighed, and brushed his hair out of his face. "I can take care of myself, Dean. I'm a big boy, I can go on a hunt by—I won't even be by myself, Crowley'll be—"

Castiel narrowed his eyes, looking between the two brothers. _They seem to be having completely different conversations. _"I just don't want to need something, and realize oh yeah, Sam's got that in the back'a the Impala. But he's driving off to Rhode Island, so—sorry Cas, kiddo's a goner."

"I'm not an invalid, Dean! I'm still capable of doing the job—you know what, people are dying right now. I'll rent a car if you won't let me go. But one way or another, I'm going. There's no reason to not split up and take care of both problems. You're so busy worrying, you're not thinking logically!" Sam was speaking loud enough to 'wake' Crowley, and Castiel saw the demon's eyes open, and glance over at the fight. He then sniffed, rolled over, sliding fully onto the cushions, and closed his eyes again.

"You're battling Garth for the title of Anorexia Queen, man! You're not eating, you're shaky, you bruise like an old lady— tell me how okay you are again."

Castiel moved from the doorway and walked over to where Sam was sitting. He sat on the bed next to him, and leaned close, looking into Sam's eyes. Sam pulled a strange face, and shifted backwards. "Personal space, Cas. I can get why you hate this, Dean."

"You never completed the trials, correct?" Castiel asked, leaning forward again to make up the space that Sam had created.

"It was going to kill me. You said-" Sam responded, obviously uncomfortable.

Castiel stood up, and using Eliza's method, grabbed Sam's face and forced him to move his position until he was sitting with his legs slung over the edge. Sam smacked Cas's hands away and looked startled. Castiel leaned forward, and put his head on Sam's chest, scowling. "I know. But, the light in your veins, where did it go?"

Sam leaned away from the touch. "Are you diagnosing me… again?"

Castiel grabbed the back of his neck, and pulled him forward again, putting his head back on the other man's chest. "I might not be an angel, but I do have all of the knowledge I had previously. If there is something abnormal affecting you, I might be able to find out what it is."

"Answer the question, Sammy." Dean's voice commanded from the other bed. _He is nervous as to what I might find… If I find anything._

"Nowhere, it just sort of faded." The voice sounded muffled due to one ear being on the taller man's chest.

Castiel listened to the steady thumping, and the gurgles of the man's innards a few moments, then straightened up. "Back into you?"

The springs squeaked as Sam moved to what must have been a more comfortable spot, because he stopped fidgeting. "I guess."

Castiel reached up and pulled at one of Sam's upper eyelids, Sam attempted to pull away, and Castiel held tightly to his chin and swiveled his head back and forth. "And you have not seen it since?"

Sam shrugged. "No."

After tilting Sam's head up and down, Castiel held onto his chin and kept him still. "Don't move." Sam became a statue, and Castiel leaned in. "How… would you describe the changes the trials were making?"

Without allowing more movement than breathing, Sam managed to get out a few words. "Uhm—they hurt, and then they burned, all through me, like my blood was on fire, like a fever. But then it would get really cold."

Castiel held onto Sam's chin, and placed his other hand on Sam's forehead. "I assume you lost your appetite then?"

The skin was cool, which was unsurprising with how little fat the man had to help keep him warm, but it felt very dry. "Yeah. I guess."

"And you're not sleeping much either." This was not stated as a question, and Castiel already knew the answer.

Sam obviously hesitated, and then let out a breath. "No…"

Dean pulled Cas away, and looked worriedly at his brother. His lips pulled into a dark frown, and he shook his head. "What do you think's goin' on?"

_How do I put this… what's the term… _There was no assistance from Jimmy, and Castiel was surprised that he had come to expect it. _Gently. _"The trails WERE changing him, and not in the way I had expected. I think- but I cannot tell, because I'm not an angel anymore... Which doesn't bother me-"

"Yeah, sure Cas." Dean gave a tight smile and nodded for him to continue.

"-But I have been considering, what would have the power to shut the gates of hell? Wouldn't it be the same thing that opened them?" Castiel's eyes narrowed, and he studied Sam intently.

Sam's eyes looked unsure, then frightened as he followed what Castiel had laid before him. "The De-?"

"An Archangel. I think the trials were…giving power to him that would have been able to seal hell—and would have killed Sam. At least Sam as we know him. Sam was creating an Archangel… or birthing one, in human terms as best they apply in this situation." Concluding his thought, Castiel rose from beside Sam and hooked his thumbs over the edge of his pants. _A habit of Jimmy's I must have picked up on. _Castiel decided to ignore the slip, and looked over to the oldest Winchester.

Dean froze and blinked a few times. "Do you…. wanna run that past me again?"

"I…bir—wha-what?" Sam just let the word hang there, his tone indicating he thought that was a ridiculous idea.

Castiel tilted his head down and lowered his voice. "He was transforming his soul. He was purifying himself, and considering the demon blood in him, that was no small task. He was making himself into something powerful enough to seal up those gates. He was birthing an Archangel in his soul, and now, he's trapped in-between. It was never released, never realized. He doesn't want to eat, or sleep. Due to a vessel's arrested bodily needs and functions. His body was preparing to be a vessel, it is, a vessel, but it never completed the transition."

Dean looked incredulous, and Sam nodded slowly. The reaction from the younger man was not what he was expecting, and he looked up with resolution in his eyes. "That's…I think he's right, Dean."

There was the familiar sneer from Dean, the one that Castiel knew as his way of brushing off something that frightened him. "You have to be kidding me, Sam's not an Archangel, can you even make one of those? This is the stupidest—"Dean paused, and looked at them both, he must have noticed neither of them were amused. As if ready for battle, Dean's shoulders tensed, and Castiel could see him bracing for a fight. "Fine, so how we fix it?"

"It's only a theory, Dean…and I don't know. I'll need to think… and perhaps study for quite some time." Castiel released Sam's face, and felt the slightly bloody clothes on his body hit stiffly against his skin. "At this moment, I need to clean up." Removing himself from the conversation that would undoubtedly ensue, he snatched the pile of clothing that was a mismatch of Dean and Sam's items, walked to the bathroom, and shut the door. He could hear the brothers talking, and turned on the hot water in the shower.

_I should call Amelia. Make sure that the sigils have protected her. If Saul is more powerful than I had anticipated, she could be in danger. _The lack of response had become disconcerting. Four days with barely a sound from Jimmy had left him feeling slightly empty. It had become a habit to get input, advice, and even direction from Jimmy on almost every action. But now he was alone in his mind, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

He tossed his dirty clothing into a pile and got into the shower. _If there is such a thing as heaven on earth, it might be a world made of hot showers. What would the angels think of that? If they finally won, and this was what they received? Wet wings. _He smiled a little at the thought, and realized that his tiredness was probably what made that idea seem humorous. The thorough scrubbing that he gave himself with the soap left him feeling a little more ready to sleep. _Clean, warm… small comforts that so many humans are unaware of the beauty of._


	4. Chapter 4

"Has he been saying anything?" Castiel asked, slouching forward in his seat, he heard a page of Crowley's book turn, and glanced over. _His ability to read that quickly is baffling. How does he bring enough books to make that a worthwhile pastime? _

Amelia's voice came through the phone, "No. He hasn't said a word since you called two days ago."

"Don't allow the inactivity to lower your defenses. Be even more observant." He instructed, and frowned as they pulled into a plaza. He put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "Why are we stopping?"

"We've been driving for seven hours, father-of-the-year. I need to stretch my legs, we need to grab food—" Dean pointed at a brightly lit fast food joint that had an Alligator with the words 'MEGA-GATOR MEAT PALACE' in its mouth. "—And you need to get some clothes, and your own freakin' deodorant. You sweat like—I dunno—like a normal sweaty guy, and I'm not about sharing personal items. Like my Old Spice to be mine, okay? There's a Shop-Smart over there, you and Crowl'll get some essentials."

"We have to keep driving." Castiel urged, even as the car came to a stop, and Dean got out with a groan.

With quieter and calmer tones than Sam normally used, Sam climbed out of the car. "Cas, we need a break, half-hour tops. We're doing the best we can, but we're just human… and we can only drive so far before some grub and a bathroom break are priority. "He leaned in through the open door to finish his thoughts. "Half-hour, Cas."

Crowley had silently put away his book, and popped his door open.

Putting the phone back to his ear, Castiel narrowed his eyes at the men abandoning the vehicle. "Apparently we need to rest, urinate, and eat. I will be a half-hour later to arrive because we are 'all human here' which I find to be an appalling excuse." He opened his own door, and swung his legs out. They cramped up, and he groaned a little, stretching them out, feet flat on the pavement. "We should arrive early tomorrow morning."

Amelia's spoke again, her voice crackling through the poor connection they had on the phones. "Just knock on the garage door. That's where I'll be. I'll let you in. Are you going to need anything?"

"Need anything?" Castiel stood up, and his legs immediately went numb, then it felt like little tacks were being shoved through his skin. _What did Jimmy call this feeling? Pin and thread? No, needle. Pin and needle._

His vessel's wife clarified, she seemed to be making an effort to be more pleasant during this discussion than the last. "I need to know if I should have anything ready for you. Magic rocks, or moss, or a hand-blown glass statue of Saint Francis or…"

"I don't… think any of those will be necessary." Crowley was circling the car, and nodded Castiel towards a giant store that had streams of people coming and going from it. "I need to go. I have to buy deodorant and pants."

There was a pause. "Oh-okay."

"I don't fit in Dean's." Castiel attempted to help the woman understand his current situation. _Sam's clothing is too large, Dean's hips are too small… I would be better able to function in clothing that fit properly. _His current plaid button up had to be rolled up to keep the sleeves from falling over his hands, and he felt very constricted in the black jeans he was currently wearing.

"His pants…" Amelia said in a tone he could not identify.

"Yes. They are rubbing in uncomfortable places." He responded honestly, and noticed Crowley's approach halt, and his gaze travel to a certain area of Castiel's body. "I have to go."

"I'll—okay, I'll hold down the fort until you get here then." Amelia's voice was replaced by the sound of the phone beeping. He checked, and the call was disconnected.

Crowley's attention had shifted, and Castiel looked around for the Winchester brothers. They were already nowhere to be seen. Crowley motioned to the crowded store and held out some sunglasses. "Come on, skinny jeans, let's get you into something more comfortable."

Following the former demon, Castiel stayed a few steps behind him and slipped the phone into his pocket. The sheer number of people, unafraid to bump into, shove, or shout at anyone too close, it made him feel very small. He tucked in close behind Crowley, and let the man stride with purpose towards the clothing section. The store was looking a little bare. _Assuming things are as bad as the media made them out to be… this store is actually doing very well. _As they walked, they passed a small display, and Castiel was distracted by the content. Fuzzy, green, and only a dollar for a bag of four, Castiel grabbed them. He wasn't sure why. _I need to eat one of these. As a human, I must try new things. _And that was the only explanation he managed for himself.

He caught up with Crowley, and witnessed the disgust on the man's face. "It's a good thing I hate you, or else I wouldn't dream of letting anyone wear this garbage." Holding up a black shirt that was almost see-through it was such a low thread count, the man tossed it over the rack and rolled his eyes. "That's the problem with—"

"I don't care." Castiel cut him off, and motioned to all the clothing he knew nothing about. "Assist me in selecting something that doesn't cut off blood-flow, or go away and leave me to it."

Crowley's eyes produced little creases along the sides, and he wrinkled his nose, as if he had found the comment adorable. "Just trying to give us a nice chat, Tyra." He looked Castiel up and down, and then grabbed a shirt off the rack. It was a mottled shade of grey and had a black cross on the sleeve. "That should fit."

"Shall I try it on?" Castiel asked, unsure how this was supposed to happen.

"I have just a little experience with clothing, but sure, why not doubt me? After all, only was a tailor all my living days." He grabbed some pants off a shelf, after another glance at Castiel. "You do a spin for me, love?"

"A spin?"

Crowley put his hands over his head mimicking a ballerina, and nodded, smiling as if enjoying Castiel's discomfort. "Yes, I'm sure even in your Forest of Gump know how to accomplish it by turning around slowly."

"I don't understand how this is pertains to the purchasing of clothing." However, Castiel obeyed, and slowly walked in a tight circle, attempting to watch Crowley as he did so. The man's lewd expression had vanished, and he looked professional, detached from the situation, as if their rivalry and distaste for one another no longer mattered.

"Overestimating your bum, I think." He put the jeans back on the shelf, and took another pair. "Here we are, try these on." Turning to look at a selection of black shirts, Crowley began rifling through them quickly, making disappointed noises as he felt the fabrics.

Castiel pulled Sam's shirt over his head, and put it down on the floor along with the furry emerald fruit he had needed. He went to remove his pants when Crowley turned around, and his expression made Castiel freeze. They stared at one another. Castiel pulled his hands away from the button below his navel. _I have come to know that expression. _"I am doing something wrong, aren't I?"

"Have you never heard of a dressing room?" Crowley's face appeared almost pitying, and Castiel felt his face warm in shame.

_The moment I congratulate myself on having obtained one matter of being human, I fail at another._

"No." Castiel hastily pulled Sam's shirt back on, and picked up the items that he had set on the floor.

Crowley winced, and motioned for Castiel to move further away. "Go be useless where I can't be embarrassed for you."

Bitterness flourished in his heart, and Castiel turned around, and walked away. _I am avoiding the first blow to that man's jaw. Dean trusts him, and so there must be some redeeming factor to him. _

He quickly found himself in a small area filled with tanks of fish. Most of them were empty, but the few that had some left had different species names and prices taped to the corner of the tank on a big pink starburst. He stood near one with little orange fish with bubbled-out cheeks, and watched them swim.

_If I am to separate Saul from Claire, he will immediately alert every angel to my location. Our angel-proofing the house does not fire-proof it, or mean we can hide in there forever. We will need to have an escape plan. _A pull in his chest alerted Castiel to the need to readjust the power he was containing, but it was not strong, and he just waited for it to subside. He felt the burning heat, but this time it was at the base of his neck, it was still dull, so he acknowledged it, and ignored it. The bubble-cheeked fish bobbled to the top to sup on floating food, and Castiel watched them lazily swim to-and-fro. _If Jimmy does return, how will we live? Conflict, and we ravage the vessel from the inside, compromise, and we will continually vary between the two of us, that will not be wise either. I… I need Jimmy to leave. I need him to finish his unfinished business, and to evacuate the body. He… is the one that is technically dead. _Castiel was not sure of this however, because for some reason Jimmy's personality had survived all of those resurrections. He never came back as just an occupied meat-suit. He came back as an occupied vessel.

The bright orange fish tilted strangely, and Castiel knew the sensation well enough to straighten up and wait for it to pass. _Jimmy?_

_Amelia. Claire._

_We are driving there. It is not as easy as it might be if I had wings._

_Hurt._

_I am aware of that. _Castiel acknowledged the pain, and the burst of heat down his neck. He felt his skin redden.

_Claire. Amelia. _Jimmy's impressionistic words became a clear voice in his head, and Castiel pressed a hand to the fish tank to keep his footing.

"Please don't touch the glass, mate." A bleach-blonde with a self-important swagger and a smattering of smiley face buttons across his bright green vest came over.

Castiel pulled his hand away, and wiped it on his pant leg. "I am sorry. I didn't—"

"Sure. You gotta clean the glass? No, it's me. No one ever thinks of how they'd feel if a giant hand came and—" The man pulled out a rag and began wiping the surface clean of fingerprints.

"Cas! Cas!" Dean jogged over, he looked relieved, and more awake than he had when they had pulled into the plaza. "Where you been? You took off from Crowley, this place is like a freakin' maze, and you've been gone a solid ten minutes, we've been lookin' all over. Idiot."

Sam spotted them, and with Crowley a few steps behind, they approached as well. Crowley had an arm full of clothing, and he did not look pleased. As he approached, the complaining began. "You wander off in this filthy run-down teeming mass of welfare—"

"Eh!" The man in the green vest sputtered in displeasure, continuing to wipe at the spots on the glass.

"-and leave me to get the flogging?" Lividness colored the older man's face. "You know what happens when Dean's hamster runs away? I gotta explain to him he didn't end up at the bloody circus!"

Everyone seemed to think this comment should have made Castiel feel bad, and so he attempted to look appropriately ashamed. _When did Dean get a hamster… and what would a circus want with it?_

Sam motioned for the other men to follow him, and smiled wearily. "Come on, nothing happened, let's just pay and get to the Impala." He began walking off, as if he assumed everyone would follow him.

They did.

Dean poked at the shirt Castiel had in his arms, pulling back the cloth to fully reveal the food item Castiel was carrying. "Why you got kiwi's, Cas?"

Castiel held them up as they approached the lanes where people were lining up to pay for their items. "I don't know."

Looking a little incredulous, Dean motioned to the fruit. "You like kiwis?"

"I don't know."

"So…" Pointing with his thumb at the kiwi display not too far behind him, Dean waited for further explanation.

Castiel wasn't sure he could provide it. "Because I… want them."

Nodding slowly, Dean pursed his lips and looked displeased. "You're craving a food you've never had before."

"I believe so." The conversation didn't seem to be worth having, so Castiel's attention drifted around the high metal beams in the ceiling, then over to the bakery. The heat in his neck was subsiding, and he felt a little less edgy.

"Cool. That's not weird." The tone Dean used obviously contrasted what he was actually thinking with what he was saying.

Crowley set the selection of clothing and some deodorant on a conveyer belt, Castiel watched as a woman who was very pregnant scanned their items. On her green vest she had a clipped-on name tag that read 'Leanne'. Crowley gave that strange smile of his, "Little brother's run into some hard times." He nodded in Castiel's direction, and the woman seemed a little unsure if she believed that they were all related. Castiel put his items on the belt, and shuffled along with the other men to the end of the lane. She glanced between the four of them, and after Sam swiped a card with the name 'Carlson Draper', she eventually handed Sam his receipt, he grabbed the bags. "Thank you for shopping at Shop-Smart, your place for smart shopping."

"Thank you, Leanne." Castiel followed the three other men out of the store, he felt a vibration in his left pocket and there was a bright sounding 'bring-bring-bring'! He dug the phone out of his pocket, and flipped it open. "Hello, Amelia?"

"It's talking again. He won't shut up."

Castiel walked faster, and made eye contact with the other men, and motioned to the phone. "Hold the phone up." There was the hiss of silence, and then he heard it. The young voice of his daughter…_Jimmy's daughter…_ praying in Enochian, he could tell by the respectful tone. But the words were hard to make out over the phone. _He should not be on angel radio, who is he talking to? Surely he doesn't think that God is still listening?_

Amelia's voice returned, "What should I do?"

"It does not sound like a spell. I believe—he is praying. Just try to ignore it." Castiel instructed, just as they reached the Impala. He saw that there were bags of food in the back seat, and climbed in, shoving them aside. "I am on my way."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: School is on break, that means doing things I enjoy can start again. Yay!

* * *

The four men were currently all leaning on the top of the Impala. Castiel had eaten all of his kiwis, managing to accomplish this using one of the utensils that had been provided for Sam's salad, none of the other men commented on his systematic devouring of the small fruits. He'd also eaten a small amount of the food that they'd provided, noting that while Dean ate with his normal vigor, the other two men actually ingested little.

He felt much better in the clothes that actually fit properly. Unfortunately, he had not caught on that Crowley had purchased rather dark clothing. Out of the three outfits, everything was grey, red, or black. Castiel had chosen a black tee-shirt that Crowley had insisted was supposed to be that tight across the chest, and some grey jeans from his very monochromatic options. He glanced over, and realized that he was basically given the same clothing options that Crowley had. The toppled king was wearing black jeans and a black button up, and it was certainly appeared less formal than the suits that Castiel had gotten used to. _He has also gotten significantly quieter. Perhaps it is the humanization of his soul, perhaps he actually feels the guilt of his deeds… and is compelled to be more introspective. Or perhaps he is just plotting. That is the most likely option._

The argument that was happening between the Winchesters cut into Castiel's thoughts, and he shared a weary glance with Crowley. The former demon rubbed his eyes and raised a hand in silent defeat.

"I'm tellin' you, we'll get another hunter up there." Dean retorted to Sam, regurgitating the same thing he had been saying for the last five minutes.

Sam rolled his shoulders, taking advantage of their short rest, the last before they arrived at Amelia's house. "We're the closest in the area. It should be a simple salt and burn, we'll be back by tomorrow."

"Moosey's got a point, this is a milk run. Ten hours, twelve, if we take our time. So, since you've got boy-band here, maybe I can borrow the gangly fellow without you feeling too lonesome." Crowley cut in, his dark eyes darting between the two brothers and challenging them to argue with him.

Sam rubbed his hands down his face. "If you're really still this freaked out by me not being on the top of my game, and left in the hands of—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence-" Dean held up his finger, and then slowly pointed it at Crowley, "-Because he'll have somethin' nasty to say and I am not in the mood for that naughty-talk crap."

Crowley looked surprised, as if the accusation was completely out of the realm of possibility. But then a flare of anger sparked in his eyes, and Castiel watched as his mood visibly turned. "If I was gonna turn on you two, don't you bloody well think I might have done it by now? So shut your gob, dredge some trust out of that blackened crusty thing you call a soul, and get your brother off the leash." Crowley whipped the door to the Impala open, and climbed into his seat in the back.

"I have to agree with the… angry Scottish former demon-king." Castiel admitted, and popped his door open as well and climbed in.

He settled in, and turned to see that Crowley had a smirk on his face. He then turned to look at Cas. "They'll see things my way. Trust me, they huff and puff a while more, but they're so easily manipulated it's almost not enjoyable."

A few moments later, Sam and Dean got into the car. Sam swiveled to look into the back seat as Dean pulled out from the parking spot. "We'll be at the Novak's in an hour. You might want to call and let Amelia know we're close, and that you and Dean'll be there soon."


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel's palms were sweaty. _I don't understand what this does to assist humans. I don't know why God thought this was a useful thing for them to do. _He wiped his hands on his pants, and walked up to the garage. He was surprised to find he could sense the warding on the house. Not in a repulsive way, as he would have when he was an angel, but he could feel the symbols there none the less. It was nearer to an ache in his bones.

Scanning the area with his eyes, he noticed that the house was old and run-down, the other houses in the neighborhood appeared to have been abandoned to nature a long time ago. This house had no signs of being inhabited, but it was where Amelia had instructed him. A bronze set of numbers hung from the front door, '21', and the house was the only green one on the street.

The burning in his skin had been building, but he had refused to do anything other than hold it back. It would have meant another stop. Sweat soaked through his shirt under his arms, and he reached up, knocking on the garage door.

There was silence, and then slowly, the door squeaked on rusted hinges, and rolled upwards. It revealed Amelia. Her face was gaunt, her hair was messy, she was wearing a rumpled pink shirt with a cupcake pattern across the chest and as soon as she released the rope to pull the door up, she motioned them in. _She looks very weary. _

_Amelia._

_Yes, I see, Jimmy._

Castiel turned, noticing the lack of footsteps. Sam and Crowley were lingering behind, as if waiting to be sure everything was as it seemed before they took off.

Amelia looked at Castiel for a long moment, and then gave a polite nod. "Come on."

Castiel looked past the woman to the ring of holy fire, in which there sat a young woman, barely out of her awkward teenage stage. Her head was bowed, and she was mumbling in Enochian.

Dean and Castiel approached the flames, and she stopped speaking, and looked up. Her eyes were so intently gazing at them that Castiel was reminded why the angels were frightened by this breed. _Their eyes. They have eyes everywhere._ The creature titled it's head, with no expression shown. It gazed at each of the men, first Castiel, then he saw it move to Dean, then Crowley, and then Sam. Blinking a few times, it lingered on Sam, then looked back to Castiel. A clear voice with great control over the intonation parted the Claire's lips. "You have finally come. Please. Invite your friends in. I would speak to them."

"We're here to pluck you outta that kid, you know." Dean responded, approaching the ring of flames.

Saul's blank expression did not waver, and he narrowed his eyes a little. "I am not an enemy. Should any angel inhabit this child, you should be contented it was me." The creature never looked away from Castiel now, and the former angel felt shamed by his humanity. It was obvious he saw what a pathetic mortal that Castiel was now. "But I see. I am not the problem in entirety. Should your concern should be with solely me?"

Amelia's touch made Castiel startle a little, and he broke eye contact with the Cherubim. She took to his side, and stayed there, her hand wresting on his arm. Her demeanor was so desperate, but with a blossom of hope. "You are not welcome in Claire."

"I am welcome nowhere. I stumble. Burnt. All of my wings torn. Broken. Thrown from heaven, into a world I had never seen." Saul rose, kneeling now, his hands on his thighs. Castiel found himself locked in his gaze again. "I am the Watcher of the watchers. Assigned by Father to understand and know the angels."

"Crap." Dean's voice cut through the eloquently voiced but stilted words, and he crossed his arms. Castiel shifted back from the flames. "You've got to say anything to try to get us not to let you out of there. We ain't playin' your "I'm so abused and so innocent" game. We're zappin' you back to orbit, kiddo."

"How." Saul challenged, his attention finally shifting over to Dean. He looked at him with the same intensity he had used on Castiel. "How?"


End file.
